


I'll Hold You Just The Same

by xxenjoy



Series: Monster March [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood Drinking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Vampire Geralt, biting kink, trapped in a cave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: After a series of events that leads Geralt and Jaskier to taking shelter in a cave on the way to Kaer Morhen, Jaskier lets Geralt feed from him for the first time.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Monster March [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189952
Comments: 9
Kudos: 312





	I'll Hold You Just The Same

Everyone knows about Geralt's _affliction_ and has for years - at least the people closest to him do - and it's not a problem anymore. During the warmer months, feeding isn't difficult; there's no shortage of bandits and criminals coming after him and if they happen to wind up with holes in their neck, well, Geralt knows well enough how to dispose of a body. It's become a necessity, one he hated at first but had grown to put up with in the past few years. The only time he has to worry is during the winter, but if things go south, his brothers are always more than willing to let him feed when he needs it. Geralt never takes more than he needs and the other Witchers never offer more than they're willing to give. They know each other well and it works. So taking Jaskier to Kaer Morhen with him hardly seems like it's going to be a problem. 

Their first sign that something was bound to go wrong should have been obvious. Things happen in threes, or so they say, and the first of three happens as soon as they hit the last town heading north. 

It's a little place, more of a trading post than a town, really, but they have a small bunkhouse for travellers and a shop for supplies. Geralt always stays on his way up the mountain - one last night of rest before trekking up the pass. This year, there are no free rooms. 

A hunting expedition gone badly, the man serving as innkeeper says, two injured and one killed, everyone remaining is being sheltered until a sled can be brought up to take the injured into town. And that's... fine. They've slept in worse places and the innkeeper offers whatever he can for supper and comfort. 

Geralt leaves Jaskier in town while he heads off to find them somewhere to sleep for the night. He's hoping for a cave or an overhang of rock, something to help keep the heat for Jaskier. He especially needs a good nights' sleep before they head out. But as he's searching, Geralt encounters the second sign. 

There's been a light dusting of snow on the ground for days now. This far north, it isn't uncommon, especially so late in the year, but tonight it starts snowing heavily. Geralt finds what he's looking for, sort of. It's a small shelf of rock, enough to shelter them from the oncoming snow, but it won't do much in terms of holding heat. That, he can cope with, so long as they're out of the snow. 

He goes back to collect Jaskier once he's lit a fire and cleared a space for them. They sleep under the shelf that night, and it's not as bad as some nights on the road, but Geralt still feels bad. It's the first time he's brought Jaskier home with him and he wasn't expecting to have problems immediately. 

In the morning, he's feeling somewhat better. He's no less hesitant about the mountain pass than he has been since asking Jaskier to come, but they've made it through the worst of it and soon enough they'll be up in the keep with his brothers, with Vesemir. 

They set out early, just after dawn, and the snow hasn't stopped yet but Geralt tries not to let that bother him. He's made worse treks, including the one year he had to leave Roach at the foot of the mountain and walk up alone. Since that year, he's been much more careful. 

The snow doesn't stop, though and while Jaskier is steadfast and determined, Geralt starts to worry about him. It's not until they're halfway through the day, that Geralt realizes he hasn't fed in a couple of days. At the time, he thinks it's the third in a line of problems, and that things should be easier from then on, but he has no idea what's coming. 

By early evening, the snow is falling in heavy flakes and the wind has picked up. They push through, but even Geralt is finding it hard to continue with the snow piling up toward their knees. When Jaskier stumbles, Geralt barely catches him in time to keep him out of the snow and he knows they have to stop early for the night. 

"If we press on a little longer, there's a cave," Geralt says, "are you okay to keep going?" 

Jaskier nods. He's gritting his teeth against the cold, Geralt knows and he hates it. Unclasping his cloak, he winds it around Jaskier's shoulders, tucking it under his chin. 

"Not much longer," he promises. 

And it's not. Barely ten minutes later, Jaskier is ducking into the mouth of the cave and Geralt is trying to encourage Roach in after them. The roof of the cave is tall enough, but she's hesitant nonetheless and it takes Jaskier bribing her with an apple to get her out of the snow. After that, she's quite calm and happy so lay near the fire once Geralt gets it lit. 

But the morning only brings more snow, rising at least six inches up from the ground and Geralt's optimism is wearing thin. He's certain now, that this must be the third in their bad luck streak, that nothing could possibly be worse than this, but he holds out. Hopefully, the snow will stop, maybe some of it will melt and they'll be able to make it up on time. 

He continues to keep up hope until the third day when he realizes how long it's been since he's fed, and then the hope he offers Jaskier is no more than platitudes. He sleeps too much and Jaskier notices, fretting over him more than usual. He's always got an eye on him, always checking in, and what can Geralt do but lie. There's nothing here for him and he knows it, his only option is to sit and wait and hope his brothers come looking for him. They know he's coming this year, they know he's bringing Jaskier. 

When he falls asleep that night, it's with Jaskier pressed against his chest, facing out into the cave. He's soft and warm, but he smells fucking incredible and Geralt can't help but press his nose into the back of his neck. He wants to push further, to nip at his skin, to sink his teeth in. And _fuck_ , Jaskier would taste so fucking good. Already his scent is practically unbearable when Geralt gets to this stage. But he can't. He won't. He'd never do anything to hurt Jaskier or to harm their friendship in any way. Jaskier has been so understanding since the beginning, Geralt can't do anything to betray his trust. 

He wakes, shaking, in the middle of the night and when he opens his eyes, Jaskier is kneeling over him. Geralt thinks it's a dream at first, but Jaskier's palm cups his face and he's _so warm_. Geralt leans into it and Jaskier sighs. 

"Geralt?" he asks, "when was the last time you fed?"

"Mmm," Geralt mumbles, "before we stopped."

"Geralt, that was a week ago. Maybe longer. You need to feed."

Geralt grits his teeth. He knows what he needs, but he also knows there's no way to do it. He won't hurt Jaskier so he has to wait. He says nothing. Jaskier, of course, has a different opinion.

"You know I'd be more than happy to offer."

"Absolutely not."

"Geralt-"

"Jaskier, _no_. I won't risk it."

Three days pass before Geralt gives in. Three days pass and Jaskier offers every day his pleas becoming more desperate as Geralt finds himself weaker and weaker. On the fourth day, they're sitting by the fire and Geralt sways. It takes too much effort to keep upright properly any longer and the only reason he tries is so Jaskier won't worry about him. But before he knows what's happening, Jaskier is on him, climbing into his lap with his hands on Geralt's face.

"Please," he says again and he's already tugging away to unbutton his shirt. Geralt watches, exhausted, as Jaskier pulls his shirt and doublet off, dropping them into the dirt behind him.

Geralt knows exactly what he's doing, knows he probably should let Jaskier give him this, but the thought of what he might do to him. The fear wars with a budding arousal, sparked by the way Jaskier shifts in his lap, shirtless and willing.

Jaskier leans in close enough that his thighs press in against Geralt's hips and he can practically taste the woodsmoke on Jaskier's skin. He braces his hands on Jaskier's waist and Jaskier leans in closer, tipping his head to bare his neck to Geralt. One soft hand slips up the back of his head, guiding him closer and Geralt groans softly. He wants this, he _does_ , but this is Jaskier and he shouldn't.

"Go on, love," Jaskier whispers, "you need this. I want to give it to you."

Geralt's nose bumps under Jaskier's jaw and he's not sure which one of them is moving, but then his lips are on his skin. He presses a soft kiss to the skin, then another, and he can feel each shudder that runs through Jaskier's body. When he parts his lips, Jaskier shifts in his lap, turning slightly so the angle is better.

Geralt parts his lips, lets his teeth graze Jaskier's skin before pressing forward and biting down. As he breaks the skin, Jaskier lets out a soft sound, more needy than pained and Geralt lets the sound of it echo in his ears as he drinks from him.

He loses himself in the rush of it, only vaguely aware of Jaskier moving in his lap until Geralt draws away. There's a trickle of blood down his neck and Geralt leans in, licking it away without thinking.

His strength returned, to some extent, he turns Jaskier to face him. He didn't smell it before but the air is thick with it now, arousal and anticipation. Jaskier slips back and Geralt can feel the way his cock strains against the being of his trousers. Geralt can't exactly say he's unaffected, either.

For two days they don't talk about it. 

Geralt is feeling back to normal again and Jaskier had rations for at least a couple more days, so neither of them needs to think about food. Time has become irrelevant, known only by the light coming on from the mouth of the cave. It's dark though when Jaskier approaches him again.

"I can't see you like that again," he pleads and Geralt is helpless to fight.

This time when Jaskier crawls into his lap, Geralt tugs him forward so they're pressed together, so this time, if Jaskier is aroused, he'll be able to feel it. He wants to, wants to know Jaskier is turned on by this, that's is mutually beneficial.

He presses his lips to Jaskier's neck, placing soft kisses over the mark from the previous bite, then slowly moving toward his collarbone. Jaskier is shirtless again to prevent the staining of his fine clothes and Geralt takes advantage of that, running his hands over all that bare skin.

When he pulls away, Jaskier lets out a little whine, but Geralt lifts his hand, nosing at the veins in Jaskier's wrist. He can hear his pulse, feel the beat of it under his fingers and he longs to feel that skin under his teeth. Less because he's hungry than for the way Jaskier will react to it.

Jaskier's breath catches as Geralt licks the skin before pressing down with his fangs. There's a groan of pleasure and it takes Geralt a moment to realize it's coming from him. Jaskier is stone-still, watching with wide eyes, pupils blown so only a sliver of blue is visible around them. Arousal wafts off of him and Geralt can practically feel how badly he wants this. Which is... something. 

If Jaskier wants this, if he feels like _this_ about it, who is Geralt to argue. He bites down, breaking the skin and Jaskier's arm jerks involuntarily, but as the shock passes, he relaxes, a soft moan slipping from his lips. Jaskier brings his free hand up, slipping his fingers through Geralt's hair and it feels _good_. Geralt presses into the touch with a hum just as Jaskier slips forward and there it is. Jaskier is _hard_ , his cock pressed firmly between them and when Geralt draws back, Jaskier meets his eyes and rocks his hips forward. 

When Geralt draws back, Jaskier surges forward and Geralt has to stop him. His lips are stained red, the tang of blood lingering, and he doubts Jaskier wants to taste it. 

"But I want to kiss you," Jaskier whines and Geralt huffs a soft laugh as he lets the hand pressed to Jaskier's chest drift downward. When his fingers wrap around the jut of his cock, the kiss is forgotten. 

Jaskier's hips jerk forward and Geralt fumbles between them, opening Jaskier's trousers and tugging his cock free. He strokes him slowly, paying special attention to the head, squeezing tight around it then brushing his fingertips along the underside. 

Geralt spares only a moment to unbuttoning his own trousers and shifting so his cock fits against Jaskier's, sliding against him with the slightest movement. He gets one hand around them both, stroking slowly as they rock against each other, his hand source of friction more than anything else. 

He wants to kiss him, wants to bite his lips and make him whine and if he didn't have Jaskier's blood in his mouth, he would. Instead, he buries his face in his neck, licks and sucks at the skin there as they grind against each other. It’s rough and dirty and uncoordinated and Jaskier would probably be horrified should anyone find out this is how he treats a lover, but Geralt couldn't ask for anything more. 

Jaskier wants him at his worst - literally with a mouthful of blood - and Geralt loves him more for that than the rest of his lovers, past or present, combined. He holds Jaskier against him with his free arm, cinched around his waist and Jaskier's fingers dig into his scalp. 

"Bite me," Jaskier says, breathless. It's not a question. 

Geralt doesn't hesitate, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Jaskier's throat and the moan he gets in response is low and heady. Jaskier's hips jerk hard, nearly dislodging them both and then he's coming, spilling hot and wet between them and Geralt can't keep his eyes off him. 

Jaskier's cock twitches with one final spurt and Geralt drops his own cock, wrapping around him to pull every last drop of pleasure from him. Jaskier's shaking before he's done, mumbling breathlessly into Geralt's skin and then he's pulling away, spreading out on his stomach between Geralt's legs. 

He takes his cock without hesitation, wrapping his lips around him and swallowing him down as far as he can manage. The position is awkward, but Jaskier is talented and Geralt finds himself drawing close to the edge almost immediately. He rocks his hips lightly, thrusting shallowly between Jaskier's lips and he pushes a hand into his hair, guiding Jaskier's head as he takes control again. 

When Geralt comes, he doubles over, nose nearly pressed into Jaskier's hair, and it feels so fucking good. He doesn't care that he's a mess, doesn't care that Jaskier is. That they're both covered in blood and come and whoever finds them will know exactly what happened. It doesn't matter because when Jaskier pulls off, letting Geralt's softening cock drop between his legs, he kisses him. 

It's just a soft peck on the lips and Geralt couldn't fault him for it; he knows what he is and he knows how people usually react to blood. But it's a kiss, nonetheless. And he resolves to spend the entire winter at Kaer Morhen returning that kiss, again and again and again.


End file.
